by A. K. Rose
Her night with Lana was mind-blowing. She found the bass player interesting and mysterious and she’d sung to her, something she’d always dreamed of with all her bad boy musician suitors, and yet, none had ever taken the time to simply sing to her. None had treated her with the respect she deserved; none had taken the time to really get to know her.
And now.
Into her life walked a bad girl bass player with a tough exterior but a sensitive, caring interior. A woman with smarts and compassion and musical talent far beyond just plucking the low notes. Someone with whom she could have an endless conversation about anything—the arts, social issues, old television programming. Someone, she realized, who could be a good life partner.
Life partner, Jess thought, and shuddered, dropping the pen and running both hands through her hair as she sighed. What was she getting herself into? She’d always envisioned the man and the house in the ‘burbs and the two point five babies, and now what? After one night of companionship and the best sex of her life, she was changing teams?
How could I have missed the signs? Jess continued, putting pen to paper again. How could I get to my thirty-first birthday and not have figured this out before? I can’t stop thinking about a woman. I can’t stop wondering what she’s doing today, when I can see her again, what it’s like to touch her skin and feel her lips on mine.
Holy crap. Is it possible I could be gay? Is it possible it’s never worked out with men because I was missing something important in the equation? This is about so much more than sex, isn’t it? Don’t people fall in love with people, not genders?
What’s my hang-up, then? Why should I care if Lana’s a woman? I shouldn’t. I should get my ass together and go to the New Year’s Eve party tonight and have a good time, and I should at least ask her if she wants to come.
Apparently this journaling technique Cassie recommended when they went to coffee was working. Four short paragraphs to a resolution. That had to be a record.
As she sat cross-legged on the couch, pen cap now in her mouth, Jessica closed her eyes and thought about the night before. It was so natural, she remembered. Soft skin on soft skin, the curve of Lana’s waist where it met her hip, the smell of her perfume lingering in the air, teeth nipping at her lower lip and fingers playing her body with the skill of a guitar player. She had no real choice, she had to go with it. She had to play this out and see where it led. Her phone dialed almost on its own—she didn’t even remember pressing the button to make the call.
“Hey,” Lana answered, nonchalant.
“Hi,” Jess offered in response, a sheepish grin spreading across her face in an instant. Just hearing the voice on the other end of the line made her skin tingle. “I was wondering . . . I’m going to the Young Lawyers’ Association New Year’s party tonight. Did you . . . well, are you free? Would you like to come, maybe?”
Jess could hear paper shuffling on the other end of the line. Had she called at a bad time?
“Sorry,” Lana said. “I was just going through a bunch of files to get ready for work next week. The life of a social worker . . . it’s not always glamorous like you might think.”
“Oh, like the life of a junior attorney?”
“What, you don’t live the life of The Good Wife, always in court, always pulling out the best precedent at the last minute to save the day?”
“Well, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Jessica flipped back. “I am always pulling out the best precedent to save the day. I just don’t wait until the last minute. I could give that good wife a few pointers.”
“Oh, I see . . .”
“So, how about it? Fancy a stuffy party with a bunch of slightly inebriated attorneys that may or may not go until midnight?”
“If I go, does that mean you’ll kiss me again?” Lana’s tone turned flirtatious. Clearly she was done looking through her files.
“I’d do that anyway.”
Who is this person? Jessica wondered as soon as the words escaped her mouth. But the truth was, she would do that anyway.
“Then, how can I say no? I’m guessing you don’t want to ride on the back of a Harley to this party?”
“You’re guessing right. How about I pick you up at eight? We could get some dinner first?”
“It’s a date, Ms. Taylor. I have to ask, though . . . I really like you and I don’t want to get hurt,” Lana paused, straightening a stack of cream-colored file folders on her desk into a tidy pile, not a paper out of place, “have you decided you’re gay?”
Silence.
That was a loaded question. There was no way she could say with certainty either way, not so soon. Not less than a day after what had happened with them. No one could, she figured.
“I have decided I like you very much,” Jess answered, “And I don’t want to get hurt either, you know. I want to spend time with you; I want to get to know you better, if that’s okay?”
“It’s okay, sure. I want to get to know you better, too. I just want you to think really hard about what you’re doing. You’re turning your life a hundred-eighty degrees. I think you’re beautiful and smart, and strangely very funny for your chosen profession. You captivate me more than I was expecting, and I don’t want to get more attached to you if you’re going to call me up in two weeks and say you’re going back to men.”
“I don’t know what I can say to that,” Jess said, pausing. “But I can tell you, I’ve never in my life—not once—felt what I feel when I’m with you. I’ve never had that electric spark, the pull, the sheer heat of it. I think that’s a pretty good sign, I mean . . . if you feel it too?”
“I do,” came the simple reply.
“Well then, I’ll pick you up at eight?”
“Better make it seven-thirty,” Lana retorted, “so you can come upstairs and deliver on your promise to kiss me again.”
# # #
The night was cold and damp, the streets of downtown Austin glassy from lightly falling rain, stoplights illuminating the intersections with a colorful glow. As she drove them to the Young Lawyers’ New Year’s Eve Party, Jessica smiled to herself. Of course it was raining. It seemed every movie she’d ever seen that had a New Year’s Eve scene was set in the rain. What was it about rain and New Year’s? Perhaps there was symbolism there? The cleansing effects washing away the past and providing a fresh slate for the days to come? The romanticism of water tapping steadily on window glass? The reflective nature of wet streets providing a mirror into the souls of those that dared tread on them?
They were facing the final hours of the final day of the year, a time to reflect and a time to look forward. A juxtaposition of the past and future all rolled up into the suspended animation created as the world celebrated a new year every hour, as millions gathered in New York’s Times Square waiting for a glass ball to drop, a curious tradition if there ever was one.
They walked into the party with a safe space between them, Jessica keeping stride with her date, but giving no outward indication that they were together. For all intents and purposes, they were two friends strolling into a rented ballroom in the Four Seasons Hotel, a complement of young attorneys dressed and coiffed and generally looking to impress. The projection screen on the back wall displayed a predictably raucous scene in Times Square, thousands of miles eliminated with the help of technology, the famous glowing orb positioned to fall, the crowd packed into city streets with haphazard closeness. Meanwhile in that ballroom in Central Texas, a band played ‘80s cover songs while very few danced; this wasn’t a dancing crowd.
“Can I get you a drink?” Lana asked as they dropped their coats at the door. Someone handed them paper crowns with the year “2016” printed in a large font across them.
“Yeah, that would be great,” Jess smiled as she assessed the room. Did she know anyone here? It didn’t seem like it. Certainly her co-worker Steve was somewhere in the room, and Cassie would probably show up briefly, she figured. She’d had an email from her earlier in the day wishing her a happy bir
thday and saying she’d see her later that night.
As Jess waited on a woman to bring her a drink, she understood that this New Year’s was one she’d never forget. She was facing the change of the calendar year, the change of her physical age, and it seemed, a change in her very essence. She was on a date with Lana amongst her peers and facing the unknown yet again for the second time in two days.
“Here you are,” Lana offered, holding a champagne flute out for the taking, bubbles rising steadily from bottom to top, “Cheers to the beauty and magic and . . . unknown of a fresh new year.”
How does she always know exactly what to say? Jessica wondered as she tilted her flute, the clinking of glass signifying more than just a toast, more than just a wish. “Cheers.”
“So how many of these people do you actually know?” Lana asked as they found an open wall to lean against, dark formal wear contrasting the light cream color of the textured wallpaper.
“Not many. They keep me locked up in a research library all day; I don’t get out and mingle with too many people outside the firm very often. I was thinking I’d see my colleague Steve, the one I was with that night we met, but I don’t see him yet. How about you? Know anyone here?”
“A few.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I have to go to court from time to time, usually in child custody or child endangerment cases. So, I know a lot of the family lawyers in town, some of the state attorneys, too.”
“Wow . . . I had no idea. Do you know Cassie Hollander? She works for the state helping families that need a little help getting child support.”
“Cute blonde, a bit uptight?”
“Yep, that’s Cassie.”
“I don’t know her, per se, but we’ve come across each other a few times. Why do you ask . . . oh wait . . . is this the best friend? Is Cassie the reason for your transition to the dark side?”
Jess studied the floor, her black pumps suddenly the focus of her attention, eyes unable to look at her date for the first time that evening. She’d been figured out, that fast.
“She is, huh? Well, remind me to thank her the next time I see her,” Lana quipped, attempting to lighten the mood. What were the odds that she’d know the person who’d driven Jessica Taylor into her life, her arms, her bed? Life was a series of coincidences.
“Oh, it’s not that big of a deal, really. We had a misunderstanding, it was just one of those things. But she was . . . is my best friend. So, tell me what you do all day, when you’re not pretending to be a rock star?” Jess wasn’t interested in delving into the Cassie topic further, even though she’d initiated it.
“I work for Child Protective Services, so most of the work I do involves monitoring kids in difficult family situations. Sometimes I help find foster care, sometimes I go to court with a lawyer to petition removing a child from an abusive home. Sometimes, when I’m lucky, I help reunite families that have been broken for one reason or another.”
“That’s admirable. Do you like it?”
“For the most part. I like making a difference. But, it’s hard to see kids who aren’t given a fair shake in life, who don’t have adults they can rely on or trust. I feel like it’s my job to be the adult they can trust, so sometimes I take it home with me. It can be hard to detach when kids are involved.”
“I can imagine. What you do makes my work seem very . . . petty.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Everyone’s job is as important as they make it . . .” Lana said, her hand finding the small of Jess’s back in an attempt to comfort her privately, the wall behind them acting as a screen. It was a nurturing move, a sign that she was already invested in a relationship with the redhead. She could feel Jessica lean into her hand for support, and there was something there she just couldn’t pinpoint. Some topical contact high that transmitted through the fabric of a tailored little black dress and right into her very core. She was in deep with this one, and it was only their second date.
“I guess you’re right, that’s true. Sometimes I get frustrated that I spend my days researching precedents and never really get involved in the cases, but I have my first big case coming up in a couple weeks. I’m going to be in the courtroom for the first time. After five years, they finally decided to let me out of the library.”
“That’s awesome! Are you nervous?”
“A little. I guess it’s a ‘be careful what you wish for’ scenario. I’ve been complaining that I don’t get to go to court, I don’t get to participate in cases, and now I’m going, and I’ll have to be ‘on’ for probably weeks, and it’s a little scary. It’s change; it’s not comfortable.”
“Kinda like what’s going on in your personal life. Change?”
“Yeah,” Jess admitted, catching the sincere blue-grey eyes of the woman standing next to her. “A lot like that, in fact. I guess I’m just in a period of change altogether. It’s fitting, huh? New Year, new me!”
Just then, Jess’s phone buzzed in her hand, the draw of the message impossible to ignore, and she found her glance diverting to the screen.
Hey, hope you’re having a good birthday! Happy 31! We decided to skip the party tonight. Call me tomorrow, I want to know what happens with the bass player! –C
“Cassie?” Lana guessed, a twinge of jealousy exposed through a crack in her voice.
“Yeah, she was just letting me know she can’t make it tonight. She’s not a big party person. I would’ve been surprised if she actually came.”
“So you call me ‘the bass player’?”
“Hmmm?” Jess knew where this was going. She shouldn’t have looked at the message, but the draw of that phone and its constant alerts was sometimes too hard to resist.
“I couldn’t help it . . . I saw some of the message, sorry.”
“You caught me.”
“So, you’ve talked to her about me, then?” Lana’s champagne was drained, so she casually placed the glass on a server’s tray as he walked by.
“Well, yeah.”
“And?”
“And, what?”
“And, what did you tell her?” Lana persisted.
“I . . . I told her I liked you a lot, there was something between us I couldn’t explain, and I was excited to get to know you better.”
“So do you? Know me better?” Lana asked, her hand still firmly placed on Jess’s back, her head turned to the right so she could look into the eyes of her date.
“I think I’m getting there, sure. After last night, I certainly know you more than I did when I talked to Cassie. And it’s still true, I want to get to know you better. I want to see where this goes, where ‘we’ go.”
“So, we’re a ‘we’?” Lana asked, making air quotes with her fingers as she said the word “we,” leaning in slightly to speak directly into Jess’s ear as the band kicked off a loud rendition of Auld Lang Syne.
“Um . . . do you want that?”
“I do. You do something to me I can’t exactly explain either. I want you to do it more.”
“Good, I want that too,” Jessica said, suddenly confident.
“Hey, it’s almost midnight,” Lana observed, eying a countdown clock on the stage in front of them. “Dance with me, let’s bring in this New Year right.” It was five minutes to midnight, and they’d been standing in the same spot since they’d arrived. So much for mingling with other lawyers. They’d been talking non-stop for hours, ever since Jess had picked her up for dinner.
As they walked to the parquet dance floor, butterflies filled Jessica’s stomach, and she was acutely aware of everyone milling about in the background. Men and women talking, holding hands, some kissing already. Nowhere in sight were two women holding hands, nowhere were two women interacting the way she was about to. Screw it, she thought, as the fingers of her left hand laced with Lana’s and a soft, strong hand landed on her hip. They swayed in time with the music, the words of the traditional song more meaningful than ever, the remembrance of the past and the hopefulness of the future all wra
pped up in one tune. Confusion gave way to contentedness as soft lips pressed against her own, and for a moment, she completely forgot she was ever confused at all.
EIGHT
“All rise,” the bailiff bellowed from the front corner of the courtroom as the judge made her way to the nondescript bench. She was younger than Jessica had imagined; prettier, too. She had this image in her mind, leftover from law school and perhaps tainted by too much Law & Order, that judges were all old male curmudgeons. Judge Hightower certainly was none of those.
After the judge issued the expected order to sit, said some introductory remarks, and handed off the opening statements to one of the partners at her firm, Jess lost her train of thought. That was happening a lot lately. It was three weeks into the New Year, and she couldn’t remember exactly where those three weeks went. She’d been spending perhaps a little too much time with a certain bass player by night/social worker by day, drunk on infatuation and distracted by a physical relationship unlike any she’d had before.
Aside from the full jury box, the courtroom was only peppered with observers. One of a dozen in the courthouse, the room was excessively bright, overhead fluorescents casting a yellow hue on everyone and everything, its sterile space furnished sparingly. Jessica sat in the first row of the courtroom behind the main table where the lead counsel set up shop and waited to be needed. She’d made a lengthy OneNote file of all the potential precedents she might need over the course of this class action lawsuit, but still worried something might come up for which she was unprepared, so she already had LexisNexis pulled up on her tablet, primed to search as quickly as possible if she was called on to do so.
Now, if she could only focus.
Focus was a fleeting capability, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. All she could think of was spending time with Lana. Was this what it felt like to be in love? She thought she’d been in love before, but maybe she’d been fooled. She certainly had never wanted to spend so much time with a single other person, romantically or otherwise. She chewed the cap of her ballpoint pen while she had the same discussion with herself yet again. Was she in love? Just as her mind launched into a sequence of fresh memories, she was interrupted.
